


An Unholy Alliance

by Calairiel_Malromiel



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family Fluff and Fun!, Gen, Sibling Alliances, Sibling Mischief and Rivalries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29508855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calairiel_Malromiel/pseuds/Calairiel_Malromiel
Summary: Much is made of the feud between the children of Finwë. Or more specifically, between Fëanor and Fingolfin.But they were children once and there were three other children besides those two brothers. In fact, there was once a day when Fëanáro, Ñolofinwë and Lalwen decided they needed to form an alliance to visit vengeance upon a particular tormentor within their own house. Their sister Findis!
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	An Unholy Alliance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MayaMarkova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayaMarkova/gifts).



Fëanáro, Ñolofinwë and Lalwen were just finishing up with mucking out the stables when their atar, Finwë, came in with a stern look upon his face and silently inspected their work as the three miscreants stood silent and sullen waiting for his verdict. Coming to stand before them, arms folding and resting his chin on one upraised hand with a lifted brow, Finwë contemplated his children.

He supposed he should be grateful that his first born had entered into any spirit of cooperation with his half-siblings, and granted, Findis could be a little _suni_ at times, but dammit! They’d gone too far!

“Ordinarily I would count your punishment complete, but I think you should now go out and paint the fence around the garden.”

“Atar! Why didn’t you send us to do that first! Now we’ll be bothered and bitten by all the insects.” little Lalwen stamped her foot in annoyance and then defiantly folded her arms and stuck her tongue out at him when he bent a stern look upon her.

“Young lady! Do you not realize your sister had to have her hair cut off after your tomfoolery?” Finwë scolded and then clamped his mouth shut as he saw both Lalwen and Ñolofinwë slowly smile in evil satisfaction and he noted that neither of their hair had grown back yet, so…..perhaps he needed to take a different tact.

“Fëanáro, I have to say I’m surprised at you….” Finwë began, when Ñolofinwë interrupted his atar, saying, “No! Don't blame him! It was my idea.”

“Ñolo! I don’t need you to…” Fëanáro began when his half-brother whipped his head around and slowly brought his finger to his own lips and tapped it while glaring at him. A clear indication he should shut his mouth. Ordinarily, Fëanáro would sneer and scoff at his younger brother, but that look shocked him into silence. He hadn’t thought the oh-so-proper Ñolofinwë had such within him. 

But Finwë had had enough of their insolence, justified or not, “I don’t care who made what or whose idea it was. The fact is you threw glue in your sister’s hair and she’s had to have it cut out. So you will all march out there and paint that fence and you’ll be lucky if that is the end of it, for I just might give you more chores to work off your misdeed. Now go!”

~0~

As the three children sullenly painted the garden fence, swatting at the insects who thought it would be fun to torment them, causing them to wear more paint than the fence, Arafinwë quietly approached them and laid a picnic basket down at their feet, “I brought you something to eat and drink.” he said quietly and Ñolofinwë and Lalwen smiled gently at their little brother, careful not to touch him and get the paint all over him.

“Thank you, Ara. Are you ok?” Lalwen asked gently, while Fëanáro, seeing his youngest sibling for the first time that day, burst out, “Eru! What happened to you?” for Arafinwë’s golden curls, that naturally formed ringlets around his head and shoulders, were gone. Shorn off with streaks of purple still marring what was left of his hair and all three of Indis’ children glared at him and said, “Findis.” in seething fury.

And then Arafinwë’s piping voice begged to hear the whole tale and when they demurred he quickly bent to the basket, full of bread, cheese, fruit and cool, sweet water and gathered up pastries they could smell five feet away, and waggling them, said, “I have blueberry, apple and cherry tarts!” he said in a sing-song voice, clearly meant as a bribe. The three, mouths watering, quickly sat down and held out their hands, “Ok! Deal!” Fëanáro said, and when he’d taken his first bite he began, “Well, it all started this morning…..

~0~

Fëanáro had been planning for this little experiment for weeks now. He’d slowly been pilfering the sheep intestines, careful not to take too many at a time and kept them wet so they wouldn’t lose their elasticity and tear this time. Taking a pitcher full of water, he carefully filled it full of water and knotted the end and gently laid it down, satisfied it didn’t burst. Then he filled the rest. He was ready! He knew exactly what he wanted to do with these.

By the time Ñolofinwë and Lalwen walked by he almost changed his mind. Lalwen wasn’t part of his plans. It was Ñolofinwë who was to be his target this day. Shrugging his shoulders and considering her collateral damage, he sprang up from behind the planter he was hiding behind and threw two of his missiles hitting both his siblings square in the chest, soaking them instantly. He was able to get four more lobbed at them before they pounced on him, laughing while they pinned him down, dripping water all over him, while he squirmed and demanded to be let up.

After they both shook their short hair at him one more time they let him up, laughing in good humor and sat on the grass next to him. Picking up one of the water bombs, Ñolofinwë examined it carefully, noting what they were made of and smiling at the simplicity and the genius of it. His brother was a lot of things, but nobody could deny his creativity. Holding it up to his brother, Ñolofinwë asked, “Can these be filled with other things besides water?”

Nonplussed, Fëanáro picked up one of his water-bombs and looked closely at it and asked, “Like what?”

“Like dye!” Lalwen exclaimed, looking at her brother who exchanged an evil smile with her, saying, “No! Glue!” and Fëanáro became disturbed when Lalwen squealed in joy, clapping her hands, “Oh yes, Ñolo! That’s brilliant!”

“Wait! What are you two up to?” Fëanáro demanded, suddenly uneasy.

“Just a little payback. That’s all.” Lalwen said innocently, her large blue eyes looking angelic, though her shorn golden hair actually made her look more like an imp. A mischievous imp, at that!

Ñolofinwë ran a hand through his own short black hair, saying, “Payback, indeed!” he concurred and Fëanáro understood that their short locks weren't a personal choice of theirs. He’d wondered about it and then dismissed it as none of his business. Perhaps he should have paid closer attention, “Alright. What is this all about?”

_“Findis!”_ they both said, almost growling, making her name sound like a curse.

“She put blueberry jam in my hair when I was sleeping. I don’t know what she mixed it with, but it was like mortar by the time I woke up. The only thing emmë could do was cut it off.” Lalwen seethed.

“And she put pitch in my hair. Same result.” Ñolofinwë said, not even bothering to hide his resentment.

“Wasn’t she punished for it?” Fëanáro asked incredulously, for even he wouldn’t have gone that far and he made no secret he wasn’t all that fond of his siblings. _Eru! And he’d thought his water-bombs was pushing it._

“Oh no! She’s clever.” Lalwen exclaimed, “I don’t know how she does it but she always makes sure she’s spending the night with one of her friends when it happens. Atta and emmë haven’t blamed anyone, but they won’t believe us when we say it’s Findis.”

“Aye! They just dismiss it as impossible. And when they humored us and asked her, she just looked shocked and said, _But why would I do that, atta?_ So she isn’t even lying to them. She just acts innocent and doesn’t answer their question!” Ñolofinwë groused.

“But, why _would_ she do that?” Fëanáro asked, truly confused. It made no sense.

Snorting, humorlessly, Lalwen said, “You’ve seen her hair! Frizzy mess that it is!”

“Regular rat's nest!” Ñolofinwë smirked at his sister and Fëanáro thought he understood. Findis really didn’t have nice hair. Especially when it was hot and humid, it frizzed terribly and was completely untamable. And she was always trying to find the perfect oil to put in it so it would shine and not look greasy. It was really hit or miss, there. It didn’t help that more than once something she’d found that worked, _wouldn’t_ work the more she used it.

And the rest of Indis’ children had shiny, silken locks. Even _he_ had been envious of Ñolofinwë’s thick silky mane. He barely had to do anything with his hair and it just _behaved!_ What was up with _that?!!_ And then there was the golden glory of Lalwen and Arafinwë, who both shared the vanyar hair they’d gotten from their emil and it had a natural wave that was... _pretty!_ It annoyed Fëanáro no end!

Still, none of them deserved having their hair hacked off because of a jealous sister who had crappy hair! To an elf that was akin to losing a finger! Fëanáro came to a decision. One he’d never regret, though he’d bury it deeply over the years. “Alright! I’ll help you. Nobody should get away with what she did. So, now we just have to think about how we’re going to go about this.” and the three bent their heads together coming up with and dismissing several ideas. Lalwen really wanted to put dye in the glue, but both Fëanáro and Ñolofinwë said it would be useless since she had black hair. The most that could happen was it might ruin a favorite frock, but that would be all.

“Come on! I know what we’ll use. Follow me.” Fëanáro said and led them to the utility building that housed all the maintenance equipment, including sacks of dry mortar, cement and barrels of pitch and tar.

In the end, Ñolofinwë and Lalwen trusted Fëanáro to come up with a way to fill the sheep intestines with pitch, but in a way so that it would burst for maximum impact and adding a little something to it so that it would harden almost instantly. When he told them what he was doing, Ñolofinwë exclaimed, “Oh! I get it! It will generate heat and that will make it dry faster! You’re a genius, Náro!” which actually coaxed a pleased grin from Fëanáro.

“Will it make all her hair burn off?” Lalwen asked in glee, causing her brothers to look at her strangely, with Ñolofinwë saying, “You worry me sometimes, Lally.” eliciting a pout from his sister.

“Ok, we’re done. Here - take your glue-bombs.” Fëanáro said, “Are you sure she’ll be there?”

“Yes! I told you she always sits in the garden by the fountain to read. Now, stick to the plan. We all know where we have to go.” Ñolofinwë said and the three headed for the garden, splitting up just before reaching the entrance and all finding an elevated position so they could aim their glue-bombs for maximum damage.

How she didn’t hear them, they’d never know. Fëanáro honestly thought she’d been so engrossed in her book she'd simply tuned-out all other sounds. The same occurred to Ñolofinwë, while Lalwen simply thought she was too sure of herself to ever contemplate they might team up to dish it out to her. Especially during the hours of Laurelin! But she’d gone too far the night before! Little Ara deserved justice!

But then she put all thought from her mind when she heard Fëanáro’s signal whistle and then six glue-bombs landed with perfect precision at Findis’ head. They broke apart beautifully and the pitch spread all through her hair. Her braid that was so meticulously wrapped around her head like a crown got the worst of it and as she screamed and put her hand to her head, she wailed even louder as she pulled her hand away and saw it was covered with the pitch. Then she ran into the house, her book forgotten and now covered in pitch, shrieking her lungs out. 

Not waiting to see more than their bombs had hit their mark, the three conspirators fled the scene where they were to head to their agreed upon meeting place at the pond past the old oaks. They all fell onto the soft grass laughing and congratulating each other on a job well done, when a livid Finwë found them and gave them the tongue-lashing of a lifetime. 

In a way, they all felt they deserved it. Not for what they’d done! Oh no! But because they hadn’t thought their escape plan through and had gotten caught. Not only caught, but caught right away! That was just shameful! Pathetic! _Next time…..!_

Finwë had been too angry to ask any questions, merely venting his spleen on them and then ordered them to muck out the stables, knowing full well the heat of the day would make it a miserable task. They’d not said a word and just marched tight-lipped to carry out their punishment.

~0~

“And that’s all there was to it.” Fëanáro concluded smugly, licking his cherry covered fingers, while Arafinwë laughed in delight, thoroughly entertained by their story. Ñolofinwë and Lalwen snickered, especially gleeful since their atar admitted they’d had to cut Findis’ hair off. _Justice is Served!_

**Author's Note:**

> suni - bitch


End file.
